


Day 24: Trust In Me

by Layne Faire (HisDarlin)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, M/M, a lot of buildup and trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisDarlin/pseuds/Layne%20Faire
Summary: Love,You’ve been so amazing. Not just with the planning this month, but in everything that you do. All too often I take for granted that you’re always there, taking care of our home, our children, and yes, even me.Tonight is for you. I’ve taken care of everything, including dinner. You’re in capable hands. Trust me and relax.Soon, love.Yours always, LouisPS - don’t lose the blindfold. I have plans for it.





	

Harry yawned, blinking rapidly to refocus his attention to the document open on his laptop. He had chapters due back to the editor that he needed to finish approving, and only a few hours to work on them before the kids woke from their naps and Louis returned home from work. His eyes drifted down to the little clock in the corner of the screen, back up to the paragraph he’d been working on, then quickly slid back down.  

_ SHIT! _

Scrubbing a hand across his eyes, he checked the time against his phone, then cursed again when he realized it had gone dead. Eyes back to the computer. Another minute ticked away. Louis would be home in less than 3 hours, and not only had he not started dinner, he hadn’t even spared a thought for the day’s challenge. Grimacing, he pushed away from the desk, gingerly closing the laptop on the blinking cursor. It would have to wait. He had a family to feed and a sexcapade to plan. 

Harry padded into the kitchen on bare feet, pausing to listen at the bottom of the steps. While they still used a monitor in the kids’ rooms, Izzy had discovered the volume toggle, and frequently turned it down to mask her getting into mischief. All quiet. Releasing a relieved sigh, Harry continued into the kitchen. With another yawn, he pulled open the refrigerator door to retrieve . . . . the meat he’d apparently forgotten to set to thaw. He shoved the door shut, dropping his forehead to rest against the front, a frustrated groan escaping him.

Unbidden, hot tears trickled out from under closed eyelids - tears born of frustration, exhaustion, and stress. 

The idea for the challenge had seemed brilliant a month ago. Sex, everyday, for a month? What wasn’t to love about that? Especially when your husband is as fit as Louis. 

The thing was, they’d forgotten to look beyond the **_“WOOHOO SEX EVERY NIGHT”_ **  part, neglecting to factor in 2 kids, a house, pets, their jobs, busy schedules, etc.,etc., etc, ad nauseum. And so, here Harry stood, slowly banging his head against the refrigerator, nothing planned for dinner, 2 children about to wake from their naps, no idea what to do to titillate his husband for the evening (much less muster the energy to follow through on it), and said husband due home in - Harry twisted his head to the side to check the clock on the stove - 2 hours and ten minutes. He groaned again, then turned and bonelessly slid down the appliance to slump on the floor in a dejected heap. 

When had being in love and living their dream become work? And while theoretically Harry knew that had been the point of the challenge - to encourage couples to “do the work” to keep their relationships healthy, happy, and loving - putting it into practice had been more than he’d bargained for. Of course, the niggling self-pity devil that lurked in his sub-conscious chose that moment to remind him that he seemed to be doing the bulk of the work, too. Taking care of the house and kids, while also pursuing his own career from home (and don’t forget the sex, the devil prompted from where it whispered its negativity in his ear). Nevermind that it was what he had always wanted - to take care of Louis and their family. Right now, he was tired and just wanted a long soak, a glass of wine, and a nap . . . not necessarily in that order. His mind drifted to how lovely it would be, his entire body relaxing to fall into his daydream. The bubbles in the tub, accompanied by  bubbly in his glass. Maybe a candle, and the only sounds the light splash of water when he shifted position. A light smile curved the corners of his lips, fingers drifting languidly up to catch a bubble floating just out of reach . . . 

“Daddy, why you on the floor?” 

The bubble popped, the tub disappeared, and the candle’s imagined vanilla scent was replaced with . . .

“Orgie pooped.” 

Harry sighed and opened his eyes, real life pushing away his fantasies to reveal his children standing in front of him, holding hands and smirking like the little co-conspirators they were. 

“So I smell, Izzy. How did  **_Georgie_ ** get out of his crib and down the stairs?” Harry emphasized his son’s name, struggling not to laugh at Izzy’s unintentionally inappropriate mispronunciation. He reached up to grasp the counter edge and haul himself back upright, while she explained.

“I showeded him. He does it real good, too, Daddy. ‘Most as good as me. Just like ‘Orie and ‘Nie teached me.” Izzy beamed up at him, pride shining from her sparkling eyes, and destroying any chance Harry might have had of being able to scold her properly, or take his youngest in-laws to task for their part, either.. 

“Well,” Harry drawled, swinging the stinky little boy into the air and eliciting a shrieking giggle from him, “now that the monkeys are sneaking out of their beds, looks like it’s time to give them a bath.” He tucked Georgie under his arm like a rugby ball, scooping up a dancing Izzy with the other arm from where she capered around him. “Whew, son! What on earth did you eat to produce that smell?” he mused out loud, whilst staggering out of the kitchen amidst a cacophony of delighted squeals from the wriggling children. 

They entered the foyer and were greeted by the ringing doorbell, followed by a light knock, then the door opening to reveal Harry’s older sister Gemma. Shocked, he loosened his grip on Izzy, allowing her to slide to the floor and fling herself at her aunt’s kneecaps. 

“Ooooff!” Gemma exclaimed, reaching down to stroke a calming hand across the little girl’s hair, the sound lost in Izzy’s chattering stream of questions. 

“Did you come to play with me? Where’s Nana? Orgie smells bad. He pooped, and Daddy sitted on the floor.” 

“Sitting on the floor?” Gemma responded in mock exclamation to her niece, while glancing up at her brother, eyebrow quirked, mirth curling the corners of her lips and twinkling in her eyes. “Rough day there, Haz?” 

“Not gonna talk about it - little pitchers and what not,” Harry sighed. “Please tell me I didn’t forget a dinner invite or summat. I’m already contemplating takeaway, and I’d feel even worse if I’d asked you to join us.” 

“No darling brother of mine, you didn’t forget. My presence here is at the behest of your husband - who by the way, if I hadn’t told you lately, is an absolute gem of a man when he puts his heart into it.” 

“Did he pay you to say that? If he invited you for dinner without telling me, I’m going to kill him, gem or not.” Harry hoisted Georgie more securely on his hip. “I need to get these little monsters in the tub. You’re welcome to sit in, or . . .”he nodded vaguely toward the kitchen, already heading for the stairs, “I’ll be down in about half an hour, or one failed submarine mission - whichever comes first.” 

“Nope,” Gemma removed the squirming little boy from Harry’s arms. ‘The only bath you’re worrying about is your own. The munchkins will be coming with me. Also,” she handed over a large envelope, “Louis instructed me to tell you that you are to follow the instructions in here to the letter, no deviations.” Harry stared at her in speechless bemusement, while Gemma grinned like the Chesire Cat. She turned on her heel, the rest of her words floating back to him as she ascended the stairs. “So, you go settle with a cuppa and read your mail. I’m going to change the little man here, and get Miss Izzy’s shoes on, and we’ll be on our way lickety-split.”

Dumbfounded, Harry glanced back at the envelope in his hand. Louis familiar scrawl danced across the front - 

 

**_Harry_ **

**_For Your Eyes Only_ **

 

Intrigued, and slightly impressed at Louis’ forethought, Harry sauntered back into the kitchen, the weight on his shoulders sloughing away with each step. He turned the hob on and set the kettle on, then turned his back to the counter and settled his hips against it whilst he waited. Sliding his finger under the flap at the back of the envelope, he broke the seal . . . and hesitated. The children and his sister were still in the house, and he had no idea what Louis was up to. He tipped the envelope, peering inside but was only able to make out a curl of fabric and a folded piece of paper. Biting his lip, Harry glanced toward the doorway, the low hiss of the kettle failing to drown out the exuberant squeals accompanying the heavy clump of feet coming down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, then releasing it slowly, he set the envelope on top of the refrigerator. It would wait. 

The kids barrelled into the kitchen, Gemma trailing closely behind and tapping a message into her phone. 

“Tea?” Harry asked, already pulling a second cup from the cupboard, while trying to maintain his balance with two children wrapped around his legs. 

“Thanks, but no. I told Mum I wouldn’t linger. Besides,” Gemma looked pointedly at where the envelope overhung the edge of the refrigerator, “I’ve a feeling you have something you’d rather be doing than entertaining me.”

“Uhm, ‘kay.” Harry looked between the kids and Gemma, a small panic gripping his heart. “Wait! The diaper bag? Car seats?” 

“Already by the front door, and I borrowed Mum’s car, so we wouldn’t have to transfer them. Relax, Haz. You act like I’ve never watched a child before.” 

“No, that’s not - I mean, it’s just -” Harry shrugged, cutting himself off and walking over to kiss his sister on the cheek. “Ignore me. I’m beyond tired and a little frazzled. I know they’ll be fine.” 

“Of course they will. And Mum will make sure I don’t feed them too much ice cream and biscuits. Now,” Gemma clapped her hands to get Georgie and Izzy’s attention. “Let’s get this circus on the road! Give Daddy a kiss and go grab your jackets. Izzy, help Georgie slip his on, then wait by the front door.” After a flurry of hugs and kisses, and once they’d left the room, Gemma returned her attention to Harry. “Enjoy your evening. Louis and I have everything worked out with regards to the kids. Let go and stop stressing for a change.” With another hug, she was gone - the front door snapping shut behind them and drowning out the children’s excited chatter about their grand adventure with their aunt. 

A welcome hush fell over the house. Harry slumped into a chair, another yawn escaping him. His jaw cracked, eyes drooping closed, ears popping with the sudden intake of air. God, he was exhausted. Nevertheless, a smile curved his lips when he recalled exactly why he could use a three hour nap and a ninety minute session with a massage therapist. His mind wandered, cherry-picking moments from the past three weeks, letting the memories flood his senses - recalled sensations of touch, of taste, of smell, of . . . .

**_WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT_ **

The chair fell over when he jumped, the whistling kettle reminding him that there were other memories waiting to be made. Harry moved the kettle off the heat before righting the chair, then prepared a cup of tea. On his way back to the office, he snagged the envelope from where he’d stashed it.

Eschewing his desk, Harry sunk into his favorite wing chair situated near the window. Louis had grumbled for days when Harry had insisted on buying it years earlier, declaring it pretentious and uncomfortable. Despite Louis’ protestations, the chair had become a treasured fixture, offering someplace to flop when they’d vied for each other’s attention over the needs of demanding jobs, when they’d made plans for the future, when babies had needed feeding, when nightmares needed cuddling away. 

He set his cup down and tipped out the contents of the envelope,  a wide strip of black fabric slithering to the floor. Harry bent down and picked it up, wrapping it around his hand, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing across the silky fabric, whilst he read the letter that had also fluttered to his lap.

 

_ Love,  _

_ You’ve been so amazing. Not just with the planning this month, but in everything that you do. All too often I take for granted that you’re always there, taking care of our home, our children, and yes, even me.  _

_ Tonight is for you. I’ve taken care of everything, including dinner. You’re in capable hands. Trust me and relax.  _

_ Soon, love.  _

_ Yours always, Louis _

_ PS - don’t lose the blindfold. I have plans for it.   _

 

Harry’s hand fisted around the fabric. 

Blindfold. 

Relax. 

Capable hands. 

Trust.

Suddenly, the evening didn’t seem quite the chore it had been two hours earlier. He glanced down at his clothes, wrinkled trousers and oversized jumper old but serviceable, his toes curling into the carpet, and wondered if he should change. Louis’ words swam in front of his eyes like a beacon. 

**Relax.**

So he did. 

Tucking a bare foot under his leg, he settled back, blindfold still clasped in one hand, the other wrapped around the warm china of his cup. He sipped thoughtfully, heat suffusing his body, and not only from the tea. 

They’d used blindfolds in the past, yet somehow, something about this felt different. Perhaps it was the notion that it wasn't a spur of the moment thing. Louis had planned the evening, whatever those plans might be, with the express intent of using the blindfold. A shiver coursed down Harry's spine, gooseflesh peppering his skin. Planned with the express intent of  _ Harry _ being blindfolded.

Lost in his thoughts, bordering on a light doze, Harry didn’t hear the door open or close. Didn’t hear the measured pace of Louis’ shoes as he entered the house. Didn’t hear the raspy lilt of Louis saying his name. Instead, he felt the press of chapped lips against his skin where his head had lolled to one side, while the weight of the cup was removed from his hand and replaced with his husband’s graceful hand, his lap filled with Louis’ generous arse. 

“Dreaming of me?” Louis murmured, lips drifting over the corded sinews of Harry’s neck. 

“Always.” Harry’s eyelids fluttered, slowly opening to the tender, crinkled aquamarine gaze that had entranced him so many years ago. He wrapped his other hand around Louis’ hips to anchor him in place. “And wondering what you’re up to, as well.” 

“ I’m taking care of my husband.” Louis stroked tender fingers down Harry’s cheek while he spoke, all his attention focused on Harry.  “Something I fear I’ve been woefully remiss in doing the past few months.”  Harry opened his mouth to protest, and Louis shushed him with a finger laid across his lips. “It’s okay, Haz. I’m not looking for a free pass or an excuse. You do so much around here - taking care of the house, the kids, . . . taking care of me. You do it all so well and seemingly effortlessly while still managing your own career, and even when I know you’re tired and stressed, you never complain.. I just want you to know that it’s not unappreciated, and I don’t take you for granted.” 

Harry wryly chuckled, pressing a kiss to Louis’ fingers before pulling his hand away. “Well, if you’d seen me earlier, you’d have likely compared me to a lazy shrew. Or children found me sat on the kitchen floor on the verge of frustrated tears. I was wishing a genie would whisk me away to a candlelit bubble bath and a glass of wine, whilst someone else dealt with the mundane details that I needed to take care of, like dinner. So please, pamper away, and I promise to be appropriately grateful that you know when I’ve reached my limit, even when I don’t say anything about it.” 

“Would you like a bath?” Louis leaned back, eyes flitting over Harry’s face whilst he waited for a response. 

“Well, to be honest, -” Harry began, only to be interrupted by the someone ringing the bell. “Were you expecting someone?” he asked, instead. 

“Nothing other than dinner.” Louis leaned in for a quick brush of a kiss that left Harry wanting more, then stood, shaking out his trouser legs. “Much as I would have loved the opportunity to impress you with my cooking prowess, I also wanted us to be able to eat at a reasonable hour. So . . . needs must. I ordered in.” The bell rang again, and Harry moved to join him, until Louis placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “No,  you sit. I’ll take care of it. I can certainly handle dishing up some plates.” 

Harry settled back again, his long legs stretched out in front of him and an amused smirk dancing across his lips. He could definitely get used to this kind of treatment. He listened to the sounds from the hallway, the murmuring of voices, the closing door. Then the kitchen. Drawers and cabinets opening. The refrigerator. The clink of silverware and china. A muffled string of curse words. And the scents drifting through the house! The oaky vineyard scent of the candles he’d bought last week filled the air, underscored by the heady aroma of garlic. the thick, yeast  smell of  some type of bread . . . was that pizza? Harry stifled a laugh. They were a long way from their uni years, yet his husband still considered pizza haute cuisine. Harry shrugged to himself. Didn’t matter if it was Pizza Hut. He hadn’t had to cook, plan, or juggle kids, thereby making it the best meal in weeks. 

He heard Louis’ nervous whistle approaching, and opened his eyes, but remained loose-limbed and sprawled in the chair. Louis stopped short in the doorway with a barking laugh and a head shake. 

“You look like the epitome of the spoiled Prince in Beauty and the Beast,” he gasped out, shoulders shaking in amusement. 

“Well, if I’m the Prince, then, you must be Cogsworth, my faithful manservant.” Harry waved his hand indolently, “I demand you feed me immediately.” The arrogant gesture fell short, however, when he burst into laughter at Louis’ indignant expression. “What?” he croaked out around the laughter filling his throat. 

“Can’t I at least be Lumiere - your charming, suave, and debonaire French lover?” Louis pouted, the effect ruined by the twitching at the corner of his mouth threatening to become a fond smile.  

Harry pushed himself from the chair and sauntered across the room to meet Louis at the door. 

“My love, if you’re feeding me dinner, you can be whomever you wish. Now, shall we?” he waved his hand toward the kitchen. 

“Wait.” Louis rested his hand on Harry’s arm, fingers twisting nervously in the sleeve of Harry’s jumper. He cleared his throat. “I, uhm . . . I wanted to do something a little different.” He lifted Harry’s hand, untwisting the black strip of fabric Harry had forgotten was there. Then he met Harry’s eyes, his gaze flitting across Harry’s face, seeming to be measuring Harry’s expression for a response. “We have a relationship built not just on love, but also on trust. We trust each other with our hearts, our children, our fears, and our dreams. I want to take it a step further. For tonight, I . . .uh, just . . . what I mean is -” 

Harry tangled his fingers in Louis, giving his hand a squeeze, and offering him quiet support for whatever he was struggling to say. Louis smiled gratefully and squared his shoulders, allowing whatever strength he took from Harry’s grasp to fill him. 

“Surrender. Let me blindfold you and lead you through the evening. Don’t think, just  _ feel.  _ Give yourself over to the carnal sensuality of being my captive prince for the night.” 

Before Louis had even finished speaking, Harry began nodding, one word escaping him in a breathless whisper. 

“Yes.”

*********

Once he had Harry blindfolded, Louis took his hand and tucked it through his arm. Harry blinked against the feel of the blindfold, a slight panicked feeling tightening his chest while Louis guided him through the house. Turn left at the hallway. A slight tug on his hand, accompanied by a murmured “mind your left, Haz,” reminded him to step wide around the sideboard.  But even with Louis taking the lead, he felt off kilter,  Every concern he should have acknowledged before agreeing to the blindfold suddenly felt magnified and oppressive, cloying at his throat, threatening to choke him with fear. He tightened his grip on Louis arms, his fingers digging in to find some sort of purchase. Lost in his head, Harry staggered, stumbling into Louis and knocking them both off balance. 

“Okay there, love?” Louis righted him, unlinking their arms and wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist. 

“Maybe -”

“Harry, if you want to stop, just say the word and we will. I’ll remove the blindfold and we can simply enjoy a quiet night without the kids home.” 

Harry drew in a deep, stuttering breath. “It’s stupid.” 

“What’s stupid? My idea?” 

Harry heard the hitch in Louis’ voice and rushed to reassure him, his hands fumbling to pull Louis to his chest. “What? No! ‘M being stupid is all. I feel . . .lost. Which is ridiculous. I’m in our home, I’m with you. I know I’m safe.” 

“P’rhaps it’s not the unknown you’re afraid of, maybe it’s the lack of control,” Louis offered, settling his head above Harry’s heart. “You’re used to being in control. The house is your domain and you manage it beautifully. And right now, you have no control over what happens in your domain. I said this was about trust and surrender. It’s giving up control and knowing that I won’t abuse it when you entrust me with it. It’s a big order, though, and we can stop.” 

Harry felt Louis’ hands slide up his back, then a tugging at the knot of the blindfold. The corner started to fall, light slipping in around the edges. Harry’s hand flew up to press it back into place. 

“No.” Then, he repeated himself with more vehemence. “No! I  _ do _ trust you. In everything and every way.” Using his free hand, he reached for Louis, wrapping his fingers around the delicate wrist he’d know even if he were blind. “I’m good Lou. Please. Feed me, I’m starving and it smells delicious.” 

“You’re sure? Yeah?”

“Yeah, absolutely. One hundred percent.” Harry nodded his head, fingers pressing the blindfold firmly over his eyes. “Tie it back, Lou. ‘M good, honest.”  

Together, they put the blindfold back in place, and Louis returned his arm around Harry’s waist.  Concentrating and visualizing the steps, Harry realized they weren’t going to the kitchen, where they and the kids normally ate, but instead into the dining room. 

“Going all out then, are you?” He teased, mindful of the doorjamb he knew would be coming on his right. 

“Only the best for your precious arse,” Louis quipped back, artfully steering him into a chair. 

Silverware rattled, the tines of a fork scraping across a plate. Then…

“Open,” Louis instructed. 

Harry complied, his tongue touching the bottom of the fork before his lips wrapped around it. Flavors burst across his tongue while he chewed, a rush of mushrooms laced with garlic. The subtlest hint of spinach and something unrecognized. The sharp bite of Romano married with ricotta. Once he'd swallowed the mouthful of food, he exclaimed, “That's not pizza!”

“Of course it's not pizza! I'm not that uncivilized,” Louis declared, his tone affronted. 

“You ordered from Rosso's,” Harry said, spelling out the obvious. “Cheese tortellini?” He opened his mouth for another bite without waiting for an answer, and Louis moaned low in his throat when his mouth closed around the fork again.

“And I'd forgotten you eat like a porn star when you're not rushed.” 

Harry chuckled, reaching out a questing hand. 

“Something to drink?” He asked, afraid to flounder his way across the table lest he spill something. 

The cool rim of a glass pressed against his lips, a bead of condensation dropping onto the lower one. The crisp bite of his favorite Cabernet flooded his senses.

“Mmmmmmhhhmmmmmm,” he hummed, mouth turning to seek out another forkful of food. “Are you eating, too?” Harry asked, not hearing anything that would confirm whether or not Louis had a plate as well. 

“I'm fine. You enjoy.”

“Not going to if you aren't, also.  C’mere.” He reached to his side, bumping into Louis’ leg. Harry drifted his fingers up until he found Louis’ hip, then pulled him into his lap and settled him to one side. “That's better.” He found Louis’ right hand and lifted it, hoping there was food on the fork. “Here. Have a bite.” 

Louis’ weight shifted, his body leaning forward then back, appreciative murmurings coming from him when he'd obviously tasted the food. They continued eating together, sharing a fork and a glass. Bites of pasta were followed with bread and salad, the glass refilled when they emptied it.

Harry shifted his hips, the rote act of eating acquiring an unexpected carnality when done blindly, but with intent. Every sound, every touch, every movement, became nuanced, when coupled with the knowledge that they all had one objective. 

Seduction.

The muscles in his groin clenched, every shift of Louis’s body a delicious friction against his cock. The loss of sight had put every other sense on high alert, and Harry’s body responded in kind. Sexual tension weighted the air. He heard the slight acceleration of Louis’ breathing, smelled the faint scent of arousal punctuating the warm spice of Louis’ cologne. 

He moved again, subtly pressing his hips forward into Louis’ arse, and found himself rewarded with another low moan. He slid his hand along Louis’ leg, acquiring a spatial awareness of Louis’ position, pressed his palm against Louis’ abdomen, then leaned forward. A feathery wisp of the hair at Louis’ nape brushed against his cheek, and Harry turned into it, lips seeking out the familiar spot just behind his ear. His tongue dragged along the sensitive skin, then whorled along the curved shell of Louis’ ear. They both shivered in response, the fork clattering onto the plate as if it had been dropped. Harry pressed closer, nipping the skin, worrying the lobe between his teeth. 

“I . . . I think I’ve . .  yeah that’s enough dinner for me.” Louis stuttered, dropping his head back on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Dessert?” Harry’s breath ghosted over Louis’ ear, leaving him shivering, the question resembling an invitation.

Louis shivered again, tensed, then leaned back, pressing the length of his torso hard against Harry’s and nuzzling into his ear. 

“Dessert for later. And don’t think I haven’t figured out what you’re trying to do. This is  _ my _ night,  _ my _ plans,” Louis’ voice dropped lower, the lilting rasp becoming near guttural. “We had an agreement -  _ Surrender _ .” The last words were punctuated by a bite to Harry’s ear lobe and Louis slithering out of his lap. “Now. I’m going to hand you this glass of wine whilst I clear the table. Otherwise Zuko and Ziggy will be eating our leftovers.” 

Harry chuckled in response, accepting the glass when Louis took his hand and wrapped his fingers around the bowl.. He heard a repeat of the noises from earlier, then jumped when cool fingers trailed along the nape of his neck. 

“Shit, Lou! I almost dropped the glass.”

“That would have been a waste of perfectly good Cab, wouldn’t it?” Harry heard the smile in Louis’ voice and turned his face toward the sound. 

“Well, now that you have me at your mercy, whatever do you plan to do with me?” A smirk curved Harry’s lips, before giving over to a broad smile. 

“Alright, Curly, put the dimples away. You’ve already charmed your way into my heart, and my pants.” Louis removed the glass from Harry’s hand, then intertwined their fingers and tugged to encourage him to stand. He tucked Harry’s arm through his, before asking, “So, how about that bath?” 

“While blindfolded?” Harry pretended to ponder the thought, then replied, “That could work. But only if the wine comes, too.” 

Louis affected an exaggerated  French accent. “But of course. Monsieur! Whatever the prince desires. I am at your, how you say, disposal?” 

Harry felt him lean away, then back. Louis steered them across the room, through the doorways, and to the bottom of the stairs. A muttered  _ ‘Fuck!’ _ escaped him, followed by“Can you navigate the stairs blindfolded, or do I need to remove it for this part?”

“I trust you to guide me, love. Just tell me when I’m near the top, so I don’t misstep.” 

Louis did just that, artfully navigating Harry to the top of the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom, where he settled Harry on the end of the bed. A quick kiss was pressed to his lips, accompanied by, “Be right back.” The sound of water splashing into the tub followed, the familiar smells of sandalwood and rose slowly filling the room. Harry sniffed appreciatively, and bent down to peel of his socks. He stood, fingers clenching the hem of his jumper to tug it off, when a gentle hand stopped him. 

“Let me.” 

Harry stood still, submissively allowing Louis to lift off his shirt, bending his head forward to make it easier. He gasped, stomach flexing when Louis’ hands grazed across his abdomen, then releasing a stuttered breath when they dipped lower to pop the button on his trousers. Chapped lips left a moist trail of kisses across his skin, following deft fingers across his hips, pushing the fabric lower, his pants joining the trousers in a puddle around his ankles. Louis tapped his ankles one at time for him to step clear of his clothes. His fingers trailed up the backs of Harry’s thighs, following the curve of his buttocks, before settling around his waist. 

“You are so beautiful, Haz.” 

Warmth flooded Harry. Louis’ words felt reverent, the inflections of his voice more profound and humbling when Harry couldn’t study his face. A scruffed cheek pressed against his hip, Louis’ exhalations ghosting across his skin and raising gooseflesh. Harry shivered in response, eyes drifting closed to further plummet him into darkness behind the blindfold, his fingers sliding through Louis’ hair to cup the back of his head. The press of skin moved away from his, Louis rising and taking Harry’s hand again. 

They entered the humid atmosphere of the en suite, the steaming mist from the tub drenching Harry’s senses. Louis turned him, pressing on his shoulders. 

“Sit.” Harry complied, his arse resting on the edge of the tub. Louis lifted each foot and pivoted them into the tub, the pressed on Harry’s shoulder again. “Go ahead and slide in; get yourself settled.” 

“Aren’t you joining me?” Harry added a pout, or at least, what felt like a pout, to emphasize his disappointment, even whilst moving to do Louis’ bidding. His broad shoulders rested against cool porcelain, steam curling around him and glistening his skin with a sheen of sweat. 

“In a bit. I have some things to take care of first. Here -” Louis took Harry’s hand and placed the wine glass in it. Harry managed a sip, then sunk lower into the tub, the scented water covering his chest. “I meant what I said in the note.  _ Relax _ . Just try not to fall asleep in there,” Louis cautioned, brushing the curls that were springing back to life off of Harry’s damp forehead.“Give me five minutes, ten tops, and I’ll be back.”

The room fell silent, only the gentle whir of the ventilation fan and the quiet splash of the water against the porcelain breaking the stillness. Harry carefully found the wide edge of the tub with his elbow, then leaned forward to place the glass where it was least likely to be knocked over. He settled back into the water, letting his head rest back against the wall behind him. His mind wandered, his conscience niggling at him that he had to much to do to indulge in a bath, whilst the muscles in his body slowly relaxed from the combined heat of the water and the subtle fragrances that floated on the air. He felt serene, tranquility a rare commodity in their lives these days. His conscience pricked at him again, and he frowned in response. “Shut up, Jiminy,” Harry muttered. Lifting an indolent hand, he wiped a bead of sweat from his cheek, then let it drop to rest on his chest. The steady thrum of his heart pulsed under his hand, the beat constant and lulling. Behind the blindfold, his eyes drifted closed once more. 

 

*********

“Hey love.” 

Harry drifted awake to the whisper of Louis’ voice and the feather light touch of his hand brushing down his cheek, the familiar callus on his index finger a hard contrast to the otherwise softness of the skin that was his second vanity. Harry opened his eyes, expecting to see the brilliant blue of Louis’, instead meeting blackness. His legs jerked in response causing water to splash around him, and only serve to heighten the immediate panic that overtook him. Louis grabbed his arm when it started to flail, and squeezed to get his attention. 

“Harry . . .  _ Harry _ ! Love, you’re fine. I’m right here.” Louis said, his voice soothing while Harry felt the fingers of his other hand become tangled up in Louis’. Then awareness crashed in.

_ Louis _

_ blindfold  _

_ bathtub _

_ sex _

Harry stilled, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, while other parts perked to life. 

“Alright, then?” Louis asked. 

Harry turned toward it, a wry chuckle bursting from his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Forgot where I was for a mo, is all. “M good. Thought I was floating. I think I know now what babies feel like before they’re born.” Louis laughed in response, while Harry took another deep breath, letting it out in a rush. “Help me up, Lou?” He’d meant it as a statement but the lingering nerves raised a question at the end, and Harry shook himself. Of course Louis would help him.  

As if seeking to reassure Harry to that fact, Louis tugged on his arm to draw Harry to his feet. “Let’s get you out. The water’s started to go cold and your fingers are a bit wrinkly.” 

Harry complied, water sluicing down his skin and likely spilling onto the floor. _There’s another mess that’ll need to be cleaned later,_ his conscience pricked again. “I said stifle it, Jiminy.”

“What was that, Haz?” Louis’s voice drifted up from near Harry’s waist, his hands pausing in their efforts to safely guide Harry’s giraffe legs out of the tub without killing them both. 

Harry reached in the direction of the sound, encountering . . . skin? “Are you starkers then, babe?” he teased, dancing his fingers across Louis’ shoulder until he could rest his palm across it.  

“Not quite. Just me shirt. I had a feeling I’d get soaked getting you out.” 

“So . . . you’re standing there in just your suit trousers?” Harry swallowed hard. 

“Mmmhhhmmm. Lift your foot, love,” Louis answered distractedly, still navigating Harry out of the tub. 

“And are your feet bare?” Harry’s stomach clenched at the picture forming in his mind. Louis’ pert, full ass on display in the fitted cut of his trousers, button undone from when he’d untucked his shirt, the dimples at the base of his spine peeking over the waistband that had settled low on his hips, bare toes curling into the rug from under the hems - all topped off by the horn-rimmed glasses he’d been wearing when he came home. 

“Yeah, course. You know the shoes are off the minute I’m in the door. C’mon now, co-operate.” Louis tugged on Harry’s calf again, a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he had when Izzy wouldn’t leave her bath at night. 

Harry stumbled as he stepped clear of the tub, mind still whirling,his body responding to the mental image, and tightened his grip on Louis’ shoulder. Harry felt Louis shift position, then the brush of his palm up the back of Harry’s leg to come to rest on the curve of his hip. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Harreh?” a teasing lilt filled Louis’ voice, and fingers trailed down the veed juncture of Harry’s hip and thigh, teasing through the closely cropped hair at the base of his fattening prick. 

The sharp drag of a nail along the underside of his shaft had Harry gasping, the nip of teeth on his inner thigh left his knees buckling, the warmth of Louis’ hand wrapping around him eliciting a moan - each touch a deluge of sensual overload, the lack of sight heightening the awareness of each remaining sense. 

“You’re mouth, Lou,” he begged. “Please. . . “

“Where, love?” A burst of warm air followed by moist lips pressed against his hip. 

“Here?” A nipping suck on the soft skin of his stomach. 

“Here?” Harry shuddered in response, powerless to do anything but feel.

“Maybe here?” The wet drag of Louis’ tongue along his v-line followed, Harry’s breathing accelerating in anticipation as it moved slowly lower . . . lower . . . lower . . . and was gone, leaving only the chill of the air on the moisture as a memory. 

He could feel pre-come slowly trickling down his prick, and Louis’ hand remained unmoving at the base. Harry groaned in frustration, hips rolling forward seeking any type of friction, even if he had to create it himself. 

“Or here?” And the tongue returned, licking from base to shaft, then across the slit, and lips wrapping around his cockhead, before finally, blissfully enveloping him in moist heat and suction. 

Harry’s other hand flew up, tangling in Louis’ hair as he struggled to stay upright, the overwhelming rush of sensations pushing him quickly to the edge. Louis’ mouth continued to work, sliding the length of his shaft and back again, his fingers tightening around the base as he took more and more down his throat. Harry closed his eyes against the darkness surrounding him, bringing to life instead the many other times he’d watched his husband like this - eyes bright and pupils blown almost full black to obscure the blue, skin flushed, hair clinging damply to his forehead, lips stretched wide, saliva trickling from the corners, and the visible drag of Harry’s cock against the inside of his cheek. His balls tightened, spine tingling. 

“Close. . . so close, Louis. Fuck . . . your mouth, baby . . . so fucking good,” Harry panted, his hand releasing Louis’ shoulder to cup his cheek and feel the way his jaw worked around Harry’s cock. Louis changed angle, switching hands, and pressing Harry’s cock against his cheek so Harry could feel each stroke. Harry fucked into Louis’ mouth, unable to still the motion of his hips, chasing after the fulfillment that hovered just out of his reach. A damp finger, coated in pre-come and saliva, pressed against his rim, then breached his opening. Harry’s body jerked in response, not sure which sensation to chase. He thrust into Louis mouth, then pressed back against the probing finger, hips stuttering as he lost all sense of rhythm, every fiber of his consciousness honed in on the epicenter of his eminent destruction. 

A second finger joined the first, pressing against the muscles clenching around them . . .probing, twisting, searching. Louis plunged his mouth deep, and Harry felt his cockhead slide into Louis’ throat, just as his fingers found what they’d been looking for. The combined sensations sent him over the edge, and the visuals in Harry’s mind exploded in an eruption of color, his body jerking as he came in Louis’ throat. Tremors shook him, his mind’s eye lost, focusing only on the pulsing white that moved in waves across his senses. 

Harry collapsed under the onslaught, barely noticing Louis carefully lowering him to the floor, then wrapping himself around Harry. Reaching up, Louis tugged the blindfold away, delicately stroking his hands along Harry’s skin, pressing tender kisses along his temples, each bit of touch slowly bringing Harry back to awareness. Harry sighed in contentment, settling back into his husband.

“Well, that didn’t go quite how I’d planned,” Louis murmured, his face pressed into Harry’s curls. 

“It didn’t?” Harry replied, pulling away to turn and look at Louis.

“Nope,” Louis answered, pulling Harry back against him. “It was better.” 


End file.
